


Love and Let Die

by duraraross



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, god bless, ish, lolix, post season 13 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6085551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duraraross/pseuds/duraraross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You try to make things right after leaving Chorus. You hijack a ship, unaware of its cargo. An unexpected reunion leaves you conflicted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Let Die

**Author's Note:**

> just a thing a wrote r&r if you like!

After the fall, you change your name and your face and your identity. That part of your life is over now. All those things you’ve done- you regret them, but you promise you will make it better. That is, assuming you even have a chance at redemption. Because the things you’ve done are unspeakable. War had broken you, and he made sure you stayed broken, under the guise of reassurance. You wonder if he ever did love you, because you loved him. 

Or, at least you thought you did. 

You wonder if he’d always been like this. You don’t think so. When you first met him in basic, he seemed just as childish. The last you saw him, he was as manipulative as ever. He was drafted at 18. You were five years older than him. He teased you, calling you “old man” and a “pedo” for dating him. That was fine, after all, he wouldn’t be Felix if he didn’t push buttons. It was a part of his charm.

After all the two of you had been through, you couldn’t help but wonder if he really was using you all this time. All the times he jumped in front of the barrel of a gun for you, and all the times you did the same for him. Or, right before the fall- right before you found out his true intentions (that you can’t help but doubt)- when he yelled “Get behind me!” during the explosion. It felt real. But maybe he was just that good of an actor.  
In order to make things right, you had to do some more wrong. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done worse (literal genocide was pretty up there in “terrible things you’ve done”, so hijacking a prison ship seemed pretty tame). 

You steal the ship, trying to take the least amount of lives possible. You’re still a monster. And you’ll always be a monster. But maybe you can do better. There are still people you must kill to take control of this ship. You should feel more remorse than you do, but what’s a few more lives among the thousands you’ve taken? As Felix said, “The ends of justify the means”. Although you never really thought that was quite true. You had a goal, and you were going to accomplish it. 

After you hijack the ship, you make sure to inspect it, as well as tell the prisoners to calm down. You probably could’ve stolen any other ship, but this was the first one you came across.

You regret that, because hijacking a prison ship reminds you of him.

You walk past the cells on your way to the pilot’s chambers (the pilot was kind enough to agree to take you anywhere- after you pointed a gun to his head). You ignore the heckling of prisoners- you can deal with them later. You ignore them, that is, until you hear a familiar voice that sends chills down your back.

“Miss me, gorgeous?” 

You freeze. It can’t be him. No, you saw him fall off a cliff- he couldn’t have survived. It’s your imagination. It has to be. No human being could have possibly survived that. Then again, he was no ordinary human being. He was a monster, just like you. You don’t say anything, waiting for him to speak again. He steps out of the shadows, and into the light. He grins that horrible, menacing grin that he never gave you. He only gave it to those he was about to kill, or when he revealed his true self under the charismatic facade of a mercenary with a gruff exterior and a heart of gold. It’s never been directed at you before. You keep your expression impassive as you turn to him. He’s wearing prison rags that are so big on him he’s swimming in them. They probably didn’t have any in his size, he’s so tiny. He should be 31 now, but despite that he still has that baby face you know and love- no, just that baby face you know. His cheeks are still chubby, (although not as much so as you remember) and dotted with freckles. His eyes are brown and full of hate. He still has that orangey glow from all the self tanning he does, but it’s faded now. It no longer looks vibrant and healthy. It just looks a little dark. His bangs are still dyed orange, but his chocolate roots are starting to show. His hair is a little longer than you remember. He still has that scar down the middle of his face that you gave him years ago (and you still have the ‘X’ shaped one he slashed across your face). You recognize all his tattoos, as you should, you know every inch of his body by heart (although you wish you didn’t) and he knows yours. He looks tired. More tired than you’ve ever seen him. He grabs onto the bars of his cell.

“Good to see you again, traitor,” He spits his words at you like acid. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” You try to keep yourself stone-faced, but he knows you too well. He knows what every slight shift in your expression means. 

“And you were supposed to be my partner, but it looks like things didn’t turn out that way.” He hisses.

“You manipulated me.” You say, short and curt, as you always are.

“What? Where the hell did you get that idea?” He looks genuinely confused. Confused and angry. He’s just a good actor, you tell yourself.

“Don’t feign ignorance. You exploited me for your own good. Together, we were unstoppable. Alone, I can take care of myself. You cannot. You blinded me of my sins.” Yes, you are certain that’s what happened. 

He pauses, furrowing his brow. “What?!” His voices cracks, “Just because I let you baby me doesn’t mean you had to! And as for ‘your own sins’, I did it for you! I knew you would have a mental breakdown if you actually faced what you were doing! As long as I told you that you were ‘just following orders’ you would be fine! You were lying to yourself, honey, I just reassured you!” He pauses to take a breath. He’s tired from yelling. He’s never yelled at you before. “It was for your own good! You always had those ‘morals’, you were always so weak compared to me. Yeah, maybe you could beat me in a physical fight, but when it comes to what I’m willing to do to get what I want, I’ve always beat you!” You try to get a word in, but as soon as you open your mouth to speak, he snaps at you, “I was looking out for you! What were you gonna do after the war, without me? The only skill we got in the army was how to kill! We had to make a living somehow, so I figured we might as well do the only thing we know how for money!” He stops, panting. You figure he’s done now. But you can’t think of what to say. How are you supposed to respond to that? 

“... You’re lying.” Is all you can manage. But you know he’s not. You know the difference of when he’s lying and when he’s not. You know he thinks he’s in the right. Maybe he is.

“You know I’m not! I trusted you! I loved you! And you repay me by turning on me when I needed you most?” His words sting your heart like the tears are stinging your eyes and you blink away the tears, but you can’t blink away his words. You know he’s not lying.

“... Do you still?” Is the only thing you can say. Regret sweeps over your entire being as every memory with him comes flooding back through the psychological dam you’ve so carefully built. Every time you woke up next to him and he was still asleep, breathing softly with his hair in front of his face, every time you heard him genuinely laugh, every time he gave a real smile that wasn’t a smirk, every sparring session that ending up in rolling on the floor and laughing, every time you stumbled out of battle just barely alive and the only thing you had was each other. You had forgotten. You had forgotten how much you loved him. You decide not to ask yourself if you still loved him, because you don’t think you could handle the answer creeping in the back of your mind, but you know it’s there.

He furrows his brow, “Do I still what?”

“Love me. Do you still love me?” It’s a question but you say it like a statement.

He shakes his head and chuckles. It’s hard to tell if he’s genuinely laughing or if he’s mocking you. He looks down at the ground, his forearm resting on the bar of his cell. “... After all this, that’s what you wanna know? You always were such a sap, even if you’d never admit it.” He brings his head up to look at you. His eyes look glossy and wet, but he’s still smiling. It’s not quite a genuine smile, but it’s not quite a forced smirk, either. It almost feels like… a sad smile. “... I wish I could give you an answer, Samuel,” You stiffen at the sound of your real name. He never calls you that. He always called you by your field name. Always. “Sorry- I mean ‘Locus’... But I don’t know if I can give you an answer. I mean, after what you did to me, wouldn’t it be fucked up if I did still love you?” 

There’s a silence between the two of you. Not a contented silence, like you used to have. But it wasn’t a tense silence, either. It was… melancholic. Almost as if you both let nostalgia and regret wash over you. It seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke.

“But, I’ve always been a little fucked up, haven’t I?”


End file.
